


When Dreams End

by Silkypumpkin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age Lore, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Graphic Description, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Solavellan, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:07:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silkypumpkin/pseuds/Silkypumpkin
Summary: Raika Lavellan has spent years seeking Solas in her dreams, full of anger and longing, but never able to pin him down before he disappeared into mist. When she finally finds a way to him she will get answers, no matter the cost.





	1. Now or Never

**Author's Note:**

> Edited: new title, typos and continuity, and an additional ending that leads into Chap 2.

            She awoke with a start, her heart pumped rapidly with the memory of her dream. It had seemed so real, it must have been real. Long had she searched for Solas in the dream world, only ever catching a glimpse before the wolf vanished, always leaving her hunting and lost in a forest. This dream was different. The dark canvas above her head rippled with a midnight breeze, and the soldier in bed beside her breathed deeply in his sleep, oblivious to her agitation as his gentle snores grated on her tense nerves. When, after another minute staring at the tent overhead, her heart did not slow and her mind did not relax she decided with a grumble that she must investigate. The scant light was not enough to get properly dressed, and her urgency only grew as she searched for her boots. Raika felt both scared and stupid for what she was about to do, but when she finally had on two shoes and both daggers were attached to her belt she grabbed her vest and left the rest of her armor behind in a heap without any more consideration.

            None of the horses were saddled or alert, and she felt slightly guilty as she woke a young gelding who she knew to be both fast and bold. He would enjoy a gallop through the shadowy forest, and would not question her directions when he could not see. A bridle quickly applied, she left off the saddle, speed was necessary and she was taking risks to achieve it. The brisk air made her shiver and urgency gnawed at her as the dream played again through her head. A quick step on the side of the water trough and she was atop her ride, trotting swiftly from camp towards the location she had seen in her dream. As she cleared the tents she released her steed into a gallop across the rolling meadow washed with moonlight that lay before the wood.

            In the dream she had seen a white wolf puppy, cowering before what seemed an army of men, their faces obscured with helmets that looked like spears. But she could identify the spot, a large stump surrounded by witch-hazel saplings, glistening with tiny yellow blooms in the chilly autumn. She passed it often while hunting and had stopped there just two days ago. It was this that convinced her the dream was a version of reality. An hour at a free run would bring them to the place. She could not decide which she hoped for more, to find nothing, or to find some evidence of Solas, even if he was too injured for her unleash her full resentment upon him.

            The assumption that she was delusional wrestled with her worry as she approached the clearing. Dawn’s rosy fingers lit the wood with an inappropriately romantic glow and she listened for the sounds of fighting, whimpering, or anything that would prove her dream true. Hearing nothing, she was already disappointed before she rounded a thick grove of trees to see a small group of beleaguered elves, backed against the stump, surrounded by armored men astride iron-clad horses.

            In the moment Raika spotted them a roaring wind rose up and hid her approach. Before anyone had seen her two men had fallen to her eager bow with arrows slipping noiselessly through their armor. The elves huddled together with mouths agape as the men broke off their assault in confusion. Another arrow was nocked as Raika smoothly slid down her mount’s haunch, and let loose into the eye of a third soldier. The remaining men circled her, closing in on the would-be rescuer. A quick draw of her daggers and she dived to the right, catching one man in the hip which exploded with crimson and he fell screaming to the ground. A second man received an arrow to the throat from the recovering elves and the last decided to run. His heavy laden horse began a clumsy canter through the forest as she prepared another arrow and aimed carefully. A stinging slash from the nearly dead man at her feet sent her arrow high, and she hissed in irritation before finishing him off with a casual pass over his throat, and the blade he held fell to the ground.

            Silence engulfed the clearing as Raika gazed around. She was not even winded. The suddenness of the confrontation had momentarily overpowered her anticipation with action. Now that it was over, and Solas was clearly not present, her anger returned. The young elves, armed with bows and nothing else, wearing only wool tunics with scant leather trappings, stared at her in awe. Raika could not help but feel the pawn, she knew she was one. Whatever this was that she had interrupted Solas was behind it, and now she would find him, finally. Her rage could not be hidden and the elves she had saved dared not interrupt the thoughts of the angry warrior who paced in front of them, her face displayed clearly her gross disappointment, but in what they did not know. When she turned her fiery eyes on them they tried not to cower.

            “Where is your leader, take me to him!” Raika barked with a tone she slightly regretted but could not control. The elf who was apparently their leader stood in front of the other two and nodded vigorously, prepared to grant her anything.

            “Yes sir, lady…follow us,” he jogged off quickly and his colleagues followed without comment. Relieved she did not have to explain her brusque demand Raika fetched the gelding who was nibbling clover a few yards away, undisturbed by the action, and mounted with a sigh, weariness beginning to set in now that the unease had passed.

            The elves had no rides, so Raika let her horse follow them casually as she contemplated the small party. They were very young, past childhood but not yet adults. Their immaturity showed as they recovered quickly, whispering and growing giddy, occasionally glancing back at their savior with mischievous smiles. They must be of great importance to Solas, for him to summon her when they were in peril. Her smoldering anger lessened the slightest bit. If their protection was his foremost worry, perhaps he _had_ altered his path.

            When the sun had truly risen and their small troop was heading into the dry plains Raika grew frustrated again. She had no supplies with her, no water, food or blankets, and she was not accustomed to travelling so lightly for so long.

            “How much further are we going?” she accused, certain that they were lost.

            “We’re nearly there,” the spokes-boy answered. She squinted up ahead into the empty hills, but could not see anything except dry spikey grass and a few low clusters of rock poking up from the sand.

            “Are you sure you have not lost your way?” the elf nodded without hesitation, not taking offense at her mistrust. “Do you have any water then,” she slumped in her seat, the strong young horse had begun to feel boney some time ago. One of the other elves shyly handed her a water skin from which she drank gratefully. They whispered a quick conversation but stopped when she was ready to move again. They began to wander into the desert, Raika cursed to herself, convinced she should have just stayed in bed.

            The stone piles grew larger quickly, and the size of the first one surprised her. From a distance it had appeared no higher than her knee, but it stood taller than her mounted height. As they passed this first cairn and then crested a hill, an uncountable array of stones, some piled and some not, spread out before her. Her guides turned, apparently having distinguished some landmark that she was unaware of. Their destination was unclear and Raika was oblivious of it until they stopped before a pile of stones that seemed undistinguishable from any of the others.

            This cairn too rose above her head, and almost looked like large pillars that had tipped into each other, creating voids now filled with sand. She gazed up at it, imagining they had only stopped for a rest in the shade, but her guides looked at her expectantly.

            “You will need to get down,” spokes-boy interrupted her drowsy meditation apologetically. When it became clear that this was their destination she dismounted, her stiff legs hitting the ground ungracefully and she took a few waddling steps, shaking out her cramped thighs, wishing she had taken the time to saddle her horse before rushing off on this futile excursion. From the ground it was clear that a tunnel awaited them, with two elves already inside and the third waiting for her to proceed. The gelding gave a worried neigh, but he was as bold as she knew, and carefully let himself be led with a lowered head and pinned ears, prepared for danger.

            Inside the curving tunnel where daylight could not reach a cool wavering light bounced from the smooth stones. As soon as she saw it a weary irritated grunt escaped Raika and the elves glanced at her in surprise. If they had expected her to be amazed they were going to be disappointed. The tall mirror undulated softly as if alive, and instead of a dark reflection of the cave a dappled golden pattern played about on the gleaming surface. Of course they had led her to an eluvian, she huffed. The spokes-boy leaned close to the surface and whispered something Raika could not hear, ripples spread across the glass and he stepped through it as if nothing was there. The two remaining elves looked to Raika, curious how she would respond to this revelation. She had covered her irritation with a somnolent stoicism which she intended to wear until she was face to face with Solas; after that she did not know what would happen. Her lack of shock at the mirror-turned-door did disappoint her companions, but they stood aside without comment and let her pass through, leading the gelding who was so disturbed as to close his own eyes and pray for a quick death he was sure was coming.

            The odd feeling of walking through water without being wet engulfed Raika, and she shivered with thoughtless pleasure. The horse behind her gave a high pitched whiny and half-hearted buck at the odd sensation as they emerged on a well-worn path of crushed yellow leaves, flanked by thin white birch trees reaching towards the heavens, and a high-noon sun flickered through the oscillating leaves overhead. It felt calm and restful and safe, and Raika was tempted to sit down where she was and drift off to sleep. The emergence of the other two elves hustled her forward, and the now imminent meeting with Solas made her neck bristle as she blinked to keep herself alert. She remembered to maintain her stoic face and turned calmly towards her waiting guides who were growing more excited by the minute, like children playing heroes returned from victory.   

            The edge of the birch wood stood on a hill and the path continued to descend, weaving between tents and fires that stood scattered in the clearing. Raika left her horse at the edge of the encampment, knowing he would be safe as he grazed to his heart’s content. As they walked her companions grew more jovial as the tents grew more dense, the two shyer elves gained confidence and their exhilaration showed as they lead her towards the center of the camp. Raika did not feel out of place, an occasional told her she was recognized as a stranger, but nothing more. They passed women doing washing, children playing in the grass, men cooking over fires, all seemed content. It had been a long time since Raika had been among her own people, now all dead, but this gathering did not feel quite like the clan life she remembered. It was both more cheerful and more prospective in a way she could not readily identify. Almost no one bothered with their small parade as it passed, except the youths who were encouraged to come by the spokes-boy that led her. They leered with her companions back in her direction, holding whispered conversations that she did not try to hear. Raika followed as far behind as they would allow, then they would pause and wait for her, content on leaving her to her own thoughts even as they studied her. She was preoccupied with anticipation, and whatever opinion they had formed was irrelevant to her feelings.         

            It seemed a long walk to Raika, and she was nearly exhausted when they arrived outside a tent that seemed no different than any of the others, apart from the two flagpoles which flanked the entrance.

            “Please…um, wait here,” the spokes-boy stopped her with an abrupt hand before disappearing quickly inside the tent after his two comrades. Most of their followers had departed but one stood awkwardly staring at Raika as she waited outside what must be Solas’ tent. Thankfully she only waited seconds before the same spokes-boy opened the flap and gestured her inside.

            Inside the tent was simple and cozy, casual well-crafted wooden furnishings surrounded a fireplace set directly into the sandy ground, but Raika noticed none of it. Her attention was immediately drawn to Solas, exactly as she remembered him. His clothes were in the same simple style as years ago though not as tattered as they were then. He listened to his scouts with rapt attention, a quick glance and nod at Raika betrayed nothing. Raika could not name her own feelings, nor did she know what she should feel on seeing him, so she lingered in the background to figure herself out as her guides completed their business with the elven god.

            The three young elves looked at Solas with admiration, clearly inviting and reveling in his ideas. Raika could not concentrated on their conversation, she was too distracted with her own feelings, but the scene before her was filled with genuine emotion that almost overpowered her long held bias against her former lover. Solas’ face glowed with excitement as he listened to them, and their faces in turn reflected a pride that was clearly hard won. Raika had never imagined Solas might be popular with children, he was never playful and hardly happy, but whatever the nature of the bond she was witnessing, it began to melt the icy cage that held her heart.

            Raika’s festering anger was all that was keeping her awake and she sank down into one of the chairs, content to be a patient bystander as she waited to see what tone her meeting would take. Her eyes wandered drowsily around the tent lingering on the few items she recognized; the knapsack he always carried was slung around a chair, a crooked staff that had been crafted at Skyhold leaned against the doorpost, and the odd bone medallion he always wore was on the desk amongst a chaotic array of books and papers. Her attention was called back to the conversation by a growing eagerness in Solas’ voice that made her uneasy.

            “You have it?” his dangerous enthusiasm was subtle, she recognized it only from her repeated retrospectives of all their conversations. The young spokes-elf whom had led her here reached into his satchel carefully and gently removed a small bundle partially wrapped in rough cloth where he held it. The atmosphere in the tent darkened as Solas received the scepter, his eyes clouded with a violet glow that lit a matching spark within the rod itself. Raika recognized a power like that of the orb she had once held, that had caused all of the trouble that brought her to power, had taken her arm and her clan, and saw all of the care she thought Solas had offered to his scouts get transferred to the object.

            “Really!...You…Aagghh!” Raika lept from her chair as the embers of her fury were stirred once more, disrupting the meeting fully. Their eyes met briefly and Solas’ portentous glance conveyed an understanding that only irritated her further. She stomped from the tent, unable to remain silent and composed in his presence any longer. Once outside she set off at a fast pace, intent on leaving the camp as quickly as possible. A few uncertain looks were cast her way as she stomped about in a gruff and growling temper, wrestling with her past and current feelings, her questions and her resentment, until she was truly lost among the endless identical tents. Overwhelmed with weariness and the pent up emotions struggling against each other in her mind she finally crumpled on a log by some poor startled woman’s fire and cried hot tears of frustration into her folded arms.

            The release was quick but exhausting. She could have fallen asleep in the cool shade by the warm fire, a fragrant breeze carrying the sound of unconcerned voices past her.

            “I did not think I would ever see you again,” the soft candor of Solas voice very near to her side jolted her upright. She glared into his inscrutable face, not knowing where to begin.

            “You lie!” she shouted, jumping upright.

            “I have something to show you,” he gently grasped her elbow and led her back to his own tent with the calm commanding attitude that had once made her feel at ease. It was just a few paces from where she had stopped after stumbling in circles caught up in her rage. The scouts were still dawdling around inside, apparently waiting for him to return.

            “Everything is fine, go get something to eat, you deserve it,” he nodded to them with a reassuring smile that made Raika want to slap him. He released her elbow and she stood with a stubborn sneer, her arms crossed, torn between beating him to a pulp and seeing what he had to say. The glowing scepter was conspicuously absent from her view. Already he had engaged her morbid curiosity, like it had always been with him. She knew he had stories and knowledge that no one else could even guess, but with knowledge came responsibility and in this case that meant the responsibility of protecting the rest of the world from him.

            Solas had gone to a corner and retrieved an inconspicuous frame that leaned against his desk, he placed it face up in the center of the room, revealing a small eluvian that wavered with gray shadows. He knelt beside it, beckoning Raika gently to his side. She thought about smashing the mirror, about tackling him and punching him over and over until he promised to give up his plans, but she knew she would do neither. Instead she knelt beside him as requested with a heavy resigned sigh.

            “So where does it go,” she asked flatly. She did not feel like playing games, but she did want answers. With Solas one seldom came without the other.

            “See for yourself,” he smiled his irritating smile, but this was too suspicious for her. Raika did not think him incapable of trapping her somewhere, even if he did claim to care for her. Her narrowed eyes communicated all this in an instant. “It’s not a trap, I’ll go first.” He leaned into the mirror and grabbed her wrist as he fell through, dragging her after him.

 

            Raika’s stomach did an odd flip as she felt the airy waterfall and her body righted itself on the new floor. She landed on top of Solas in a small dark room covered with soft moss, a normal-size eluvian glimmered innocuously from the wall. Solas grunted a laugh as she struggled awkwardly off his lap.

            “Is this another one of your _palaces_ …,” Raika growled as she brushed herself off carefully, feeling lightheaded from their somersault.

            “It was once, come,” he walked with his light step towards the barely visible outline of a door. They emerged under a million dancing stars, a canopy of leaves spread out below the cliff where they stood. He was trying to soften her mood.

            “You think I won’t yell at you under the stars,” Raika continued to glare at him, as he silently instigated uncontrollable waves of anger that she gladly embraced.

            “I think you will do what you must, but here we will not be overheard. Do sit at least, while you yell at me, you are clearly drained,” Solas sat on the edge of the rocks in his most casual posture which was still as straight as rod, waiting for her to join him. His knowing complacency had once been somewhat charming, but now felt she was being used, like a dog teasing a rabbit before the kill. She stayed standing, scowling silently and stubbornly refusing to enjoy the clear stars above, one of her favorite things in the world.

            “I really never thought I would see you again,” he continued where he had begun, before her rage had interrupted him, “but when my spies returned, I knew you would be with them.”

            “How can you say that! You summoned me! You showed me that dream, you let me find you this once, because you were scared to lose the stupid scepter! A thousand times I searched for you…grrhhh,” she did not want to admit her longing, though he probably already knew.

            “I thought I was protecting you by keeping you away, I was wrong,”

            “How often you are wrong! And yet still, you pursue this…this…annihilation! and call it restoration!” 

            “Is not everyone convinced of the justice of their actions? No one acts under the belief that they are wrong. We all have the conviction that we alone can right the wrongs that we see. A mortal’s burden.”

            “And yours!”

            “And mine.” Their eyes locked in silence for a minute, his open and welcoming, delighting in their combative banter, and hers shrewd and tense as she tried to wade through his words to find the facts. She broke off the look, still filled with rage.

            “You weren’t worried about your men, they are just children! How could you send them for that, unprepared, unarmed! Do you think you were wrong about that?”

            “They were not supposed to get caught…” she interrupted him and continued her rant.         

            “Then you summon me to save it, not them, IT! Do they know who you are, what your plan is, that you are using them! How quickly will you abandon them now that you have what you need?” Solas held up his hands imploringly, ready to surrender to her questions.      

            “I will explain as best I can, but please sit.”

            “You have promised explanations before…”

            “I have, and you will get them now.”

            “Why now?!” she glared down at him, her fists clenched involuntarily at her sides.

            “Because you are here, and try as I might, I cannot forget that you changed everything, I owe it to you,” his tone was honest, and though he was skilled at deception Raika had learned, too late, to read his subtleties. She sat reluctantly, not close to him, which did not escape his notice. He observed her dark hair, loosely braided as she always wore it to sleep, her mismatched boots, and the absence of her typical armor. Clearly she had rushed to his subconscious summons, which would not help to endear her to him at the moment. “So far away, you do not trust me.” It was not a question.

            “Why should I trust you? You have done nothing but betray my trust!” Raika wished she had remained standing, it was easier to pace and yell than to relax on the edge of the cliff with anger tensing her body.

            “You are right, I’m sorry. Ask me your questions and decide if I am telling the truth.” His easy acquiescence made her even more suspicious, but there was no other way to find out what she needed.

            “How can I decide to trust you, why would you tell me the truth?”

            “I have not been fair, to you or myself. I sought to keep you away, to protect us both. Maybe you will not believe that, but it _is_ the truth. When I knew you would come I decided you deserved the choice everyone who follows me has. I should not have denied you that.” His mellow voice calmed her against her will, as it always had. Sometimes at Skyhold she had sought his company just to be soothed by his voice.

            “Do your followers know what you are doing, or are they ignorant pawns.” Raika did not shout but her voice was full of scorn as she tested him.

            “They know enough to be convinced that joining me is better than not joining me,” Raika sneered and a disgusted growl rattled in her throat, “They know I intend to change the world, and they hope it will be better. If they did not join me what do they have to look forward to, a long life of slavery to some magister, or poverty in a human city, every day, worried any human might decide their fate for them? Everyone who follows me has chosen to fight for change, rather than to accept the life they know.”

            “So your plan remains,” she let out a resigned sigh.

            “Yes, it must, but I _have_ learned from the past. I know now that as much as I might plan, even I cannot foresee the future. The mistake with Coryphaeus was due to my arrogance, this time I will do better.”

            “How? By doing the same thing Coryphaeus was going to do!” anger boiled up again at the mention of their enemy.

            “No. He meant to cement his own power through chaos, I mean only to make the world whole again. If someone told you that you were living in a cave and everything you knew was just a shadow of reality, wouldn’t you want to see what was outside the cave?”

            “Not if it means that everyone will die!”

            “I do not revel in the devastation that it will cause. It is not necessary in itself for anyone to die, it is merely the likely outcome that many will,” Solas did look realistically bothered by the idea as Raika studied him in the starlight.

            “But are you even trying to prevent their death, how can you say you care while turning your back,” the effort of raw anger had used up much of her energy so she settled for harsh accusation.

            “Did you look around at the camp, did you see the children playing without a care, woman washing their own clothes instead of their masters? Why do you think they are there? That is not a military camp, they are safe there. Those children, as you called them, my spies who brought you to me, you asked how I could let them carry out that important task; because I could not deny their request. They were slaves all their lives, they knew of the scepters existence and location, they begged me to let them do this. As you can guess, I followed them every step of the way, watched them from the fade, and you caught me doing so. I was too preoccupied to escape your notice.”

            “I thought the fade was everywhere, how can that camp be safe?” She turned the subject from the scepter to avoid admitting that his argument was valid.

            “Because they are able to live their lives, to be content. Remember, the fade reflects the world, if there is no anger or desire or pride, then demons will not be drawn to the place. It is as safe as any place can be.” Raika looked out over the moonlit treetops, her ire once again in ebb. She had spent the last months preoccupied with his plans, forced to fill in the gaps with her own assumptions. It was still impossible for her to excuse his intentions, but with his excuses immediately before her, along with the atmosphere of the camp which she had seen for herself was one of calm safety, it was harder to maintain such fervent disapproval. But he had hurt her deeply, and she did not know if he could fix that, or if she wanted him too.

            “You are injured!” Solas’ normally complacent tone was tainted with sudden alarm.

            “It is just a scratch,” Raika tisked at him, assuming it was to distract her. She flinched as she brushed her thigh where the dying soldier had cut her this morning. It was raw and sore to the touch. Looking down in shock she noticed the pool of blood that had gathered as they sat, almost black on the dark rocks. Adrenaline and excitement had shrouded its severity, and suddenly her unshakable fatigue took on another explanation and level of peril.

            “It is much worse than that, we must get back to camp,” Solas grabbed her shoulder protectively.

            “Oh…” she muttered, and as if the realization of danger increased the effects tenfold she passed out on the narrow ledge.

 

            Raika awoke with a jolt, the canvas tent rippled overhead in a warm wind and dappled sunlight dyed the fabric gray then yellow in turns. She remembered sitting under a midnight sky chastising Solas about all of his wrongs, but could not decide if it was a memory or a dream. She rolled over and felt the tug of unfamiliar clothes rubbing against sheets softer than her own. Solas sat properly in a chair nearby, reading some papers.

            “Sleep well?” he asked with a suggestive tone that betrayed a deep relief.

            “Was it real?” Raika was hesitant to leave the comfortable bed. A low chuckle rolled Solas’ chest.

            “You know my thoughts on that subject, but you mean ‘was it a dream’, no. You were easily healed, but you must have lost a lot of blood before I noticed it.”    

            “How long was I asleep?”

            “A few hours.” Raika sat up, investigating the plain dress wrapped around her otherwise bare body.

            “I didn’t get to finish questioning you,” she grumbled with a bit of a pout that Solas found unfortunately attractive.

            “If you can refrain from shouting, then you may continue with your questions.” He pulled his chair closer, hoping her voice would remain a low mumble. She couldn’t remember exactly where she had left off. All of her frustration seemed to have evaporated now that she was rested and healed. She sunk into the feathery bed, searching for her anger like it was a dragon disappearing into a cloudy sky.

            “I still don’t understand why you think you must do this.”

            “I don’t need you to understand, but I must,” Solas leaned back in his chair and looked away, changing in an instant from friendly to dismissive.

            “See Solas, that’s your problem, you don’t even know what trust is. You promised to give explanations. Deciding that I won’t understand without telling me, that’s the complete opposite of trust.” Irritation swelled to replace her anger. Solas looked back at her face, her tousled hair and light cotton dress made her softer than any of his memories of the Inquisitor, but it had been so long since he had trusted someone who was even in a position to betray him.

            “You believe a promise is sacred, and so do I. I made a promise and I failed to keep it. Now I must make it right.”

             “This is about the gods isn’t it?” With her anger all but gone curiosity took its place, and she fully intended to get the answers he had refused to give her when they had last met.

            “They are not gods, but yes.” His brief answer would not do to satisfy her.

            “Do you know how frustrating it is have one of the elven gods sitting with me, and yet he refuses to say anything about his past. I am dying of curiosity! Just tell me something of what it was like before the veil, who you are really, what were the gods like, what were _you_ like, anything!” Raika stared at him with open yearning and rapt attention that Solas adored.

            “Do not call me that, I have no desire to be put above others in that manner. At least you do not undervalue truth, I have always admired that about you,” he sighed as he hesitated, looking downcast, eager to regain Raika’s trust and yet reluctant to relive the demons of his past. She waited with baited breathe. “What I tell you, you must never repeat, they have spies everywhere, spies you would never suspect. Even here in my own camp,” Solas lowered his voice to just above a whisper, Raika could barely hear him over the crackling fire and the wind that fluttered the canvas.

            “You remember Mythal, of course?” Solas began slowly, it was not so simple to explain.

Raika nodded, now sitting in the bed expectantly.

            “She was the protector, the Mother, and I, her general. Before that I was her servant, and even before that I was an element of the spirit world. She sought wisdom and bound me to a body, that I might ever be available to her needs. But a body comes with a will, and over time I recognized that I had been trapped in slavery and demanded my freedom. At first she dismissed my demands, so I took it upon myself. Wisdom is resourceful and I learned of a way to destroy the spell that held me, through the vallaslin. I was not so skilled at magic then, and it was painful but it worked. See this scar,” he pointed to the small dent on his forehead that Raika had always wondered about, “it is my reminder of that past.”

            “I don’t understand, you were a spirit?” Raika scrunched her eyes closed as she tried to imagine how that was possible.

            “You would have called me that, but the world was different then. Bodies in this world are limiting things, none of the evanuris were tied to one shape, it is part of what gave them their power. It is hard to explain to one who has not experienced it themselves,” Solas described with indifference. Raika brushed her confusion aside to continue her questioning.

            “But how could you go from her slave to her General? You hate slavery, you despise all who practice it.”

            “Of course anyone who has been a slave would hate it, as well as any compassionate being. Mythal was surprised when she found out what I had done, but she was also impressed. I had proven to her that she was wrong, and she accepted it. Her ability to evolve, to see her own flaws, is a capacity none of the other evanuris ever showed. I became her confidant, and she mine. I was able to convince her that I was not alone in wanting freedom, that every slave had hopes and dreams. Publicly, that is among the other evanuris, I was her strategist, her body guard, and her general. In secret we were equals. You call her the god of Justice, and though labels such as these disregard the complexities of any conscious being, she was by far the most evenhanded among them and I will not argue with the title. I asked her repeatedly to free all the slaves, I begged her for countless years, centuries. Finally she agreed that it was the just path. When she introduced the idea to the others of the pantheon, that must have been the final straw. They had been content for ages to wage war against each other, to capture and destroy, to tease and betray in an endless cycle that used their followers as disposable objects. And now she wished to take their armies and servants from them, and that was more than they could bare. They joined forces against her. I had promised to protect her, to stand by her, but when they came for her I was not there.” Solas leaned over his hands, he could remember it like it was yesterday. Raika put her hands gently on his, his pain evident.

            “What happened then,” she prodded gently, unable to contain her interest despite his discomfort.

            “And then, I ran. Alone I could not contend with the might of all the evanuris at once. Their armies washed over the world, destroying everything as they sought to find me. They considered it my fault, that I had corrupted Mythal, they even blamed me for her death. I evaded them for a time, long enough to formulate a plan and to free some of their followers. When there was nothing else I could do I retreated to Skyhold, raised the veil and banished them to euthenera as they conspired in Arlathan. The city was rent by the veil, you see shadows of it now only in the fade, the black city. The rest you know.” He sighed and sagged as if his secrets had been propping up his body.

            “I feel like I know nothing! If Mythal created you, how are you one of the evanuris? How did you have the power to banish them? What happened to those who followed the other gods, or Mythal, or you? And if you could not kill them then, what is different now and why have you not done it? Was she the Maker, are you?! If the gods are trapped in the black city…” Raika put her palms to her forehead to keep her head from exploding. Solas let out a rumbling chuckle at her string of queries, which had cheered him a bit.

            “Inquisitor is indeed the proper title for you. I shall answer the easy ones first. I do not pretend to know what the Chant means when they invoke the Maker’s name, perhaps they are remembering the creation of the veil. But no, the evanuris are not the creators of the world, though we all left a mark here in our own way. You know the fade reacts to our will, our emotions. Once the whole world was like that, and any who had the determination could shape reality. It took great effort but the effects were long lasting. So much of your world was the creation of one of them; trees, giants, halla, qunari, elves...”

            “Elves, and Qunari?” Raika looked at him with raised eyebrows, worried she would lose some of these revelations if she did not grasp them right away.

            “Yes. Is that so hard to believe? Mythal and Elgar’nan, the mother and father, created all of them, as she created me. They raised up those they found worthy, that possessed some trait they respected, and the evanuris could do the same. Each of the first elves was some ethereal summoned and bound in a physical form, enslaved to a god without consent. The vallaslin was magic meant to bind, I removed it from so many as I had from myself, they often became my followers though some sought freedom and I did not compel them to stay. The Qunari were…a later creation. When the evanuris discovered what I had been doing they no longer trusted their elven slaves as loyal soldiers. Together they created a new race, an army, but instead of relying on a binding spell they invented a culture, one that reinforced obedience and blind submission as the most honorable traits. Their first duty was to hunt me down. When the evanuris disappeared from the world life continued the same for many elves, they kept their habits, serving a master of which they had barely been aware. Qunari evolved somewhat differently, they had known their creators as the elves did not, and they clung to their rituals and rules. As their true purpose faded over the centuries they created a new one.”

            “Is that why you hate the Qunari?”

            “I don’t hate them, I pity them. They don’t know that their entire existence hinges on that which they fear most, magic. And they will never learn the truth until they move beyond their farce of a religion.”

            “If elves were all once spirits then…” Raika looked down at her legs, now draped over the side of the bed, as if they might evaporate before her eyes.

            “It was millennia ago, longer than all of the known history of men. Time has a magic of its own, changing reality an inch at a time. The elves of before are no more. Well, I thought so, until we went to the Temple of Mythal. There may still be a few hidden away. But you, your people, are as different from them as you are from the spirits in the fade.” Raika’s head shot up with a glare. “Do not take offense, in a way you are the more miraculous creations, adapting naturally in harmony with the world around you. I simply mean, it is hard for me to see myself as one of your people, just as it is hard for you to imagine a world without the veil, and all that it entails.” Raika could tell he was growing weary of explanations, his details growing less and less specific, but she had more questions she could not let go.

            “How does the veil work, I must understand, and why do you want to take it down now, but you are delaying?” Solas hesitated, not meeting her eyes. He felt deflated by his confession, he had not shared so much of himself since before the fall.

            “Simple magic in theory,” Raika let out a skeptical huff, only Solas would think the veil was simple, “but it does require a great deal of power,” he admitted. “We had used the spell before, in our battle with those you call the Forgotten Ones, the war that raised the evanuris to power. I might have been among them if I had not been loyal to Mythal. They were those who questioned authority, whose natures are not easily defined or kept in line, even so you never hear Fen’harel called a god of Wisdom. In the end they were expelled to the void, the deep dark places that feed on mystery and defy knowledge, cut off from the world of the evanuris. I used the same magic, except this time I divided the world of spirits from the physical world. The power of the evanuris comes from the fluidity of their nature, no longer connected to the fade their power was limited. You saw the library, imagine that happening to these _gods_ ,” a small smile creased Solas’ face. “Their physical aspects would be torn apart and their souls banished to the land of dreams. But they are not dead.”

            “That doesn’t really answer my question…”

            “To fulfill my promise I must complete my duty. I must restore the world of my people, where the fade and the physical world exist together, and I must avenge Mythal. I will not tell you how,” Raika’s mouth opened to protest but Solas interrupted her before she could speak, “if you trust anything I have said, you must trust this. You do not want to know.” Raika humphed grumpily.

            “Well then why have you not done it, if you have a plan,” she stared at him hard. Solas paused, guarded about admitting his mistakes.

            “Despite how much I try, I am not infallible. Because, I do not know where they are…”

            “You mean, the gods have escaped?” Raika interrupted as her voice raised in alarm.

            “Shhh, quietly. Time has no meaning in the fade, and they undoubtedly began to seek escape once they adjusted to their new reality. Now I must hunt them down one by one before I can destroy them. They are not where I anticipated finding them, but that does not mean they have all been let loose upon this world. We would be aware if they had, they are not subtle. I have located a few. I believe you may have even met some of them, apart from Mythal. Others have made their mark upon the world before being defeated and returned to the fade in ways I assume they found most astonishing.”

            “But how would they be able to escape? You said you were not able to visit the fade physically. How could they get out of it?” Raika responded with a quizzical look.

            “I have some theories,” Solas brightened a bit now that he could discuss his ideas with a trusted companion instead of recount a past he could not change. He had not even trusted his spirit-friends with these musings for fear they would be overheard in the fade. “But we must be very careful with them,” he whispered.

            “Yes, yes,” Raika rolled her eyes, literally sitting on the edge of her seat.

            “I’m serious. Any information the evanuris obtain can help them to regain power, and they would be capable of it if they were restored to their former status. Animals, spirits, even men, and certainly elves, could be their spies.” Raika nodded vigorously, ready to agree so long as he kept talking.

            “The fade connects to the void in a few small places, it is possible they sought this route to exit their prison. It may be this was the origin of the blight, though I am not sure, but I do know the darkspawn come from the void. To our advantage, those who entered the void before the fall came back different, changed. Even the evanuris may have lost their minds, their way, been corrupted, in seeking to escape by that path. Or, they may have possessed some other being as spirits, only dwarves are immune, but if the host is unaware then it may not work as they intended.”

            “Flemeth said something about that, she told Morrigan could not pass herself on to an unwilling host, however that works.”

            “Yes, but unaware is different than unwilling,” Solas glanced at her slyly, “you drank from the well of Mythal, what does it tell you.” Raika closed her eyes and tried to listen, she had not heard the ghostly whispers in some time, but thought it might be because she tried to ignore them.

            “Nothing…I don’t hear the voice anymore,” she was a bit saddened by the realization.            “Hm, that is interesting,” but Solas did not sound interested at all. “Either way, the evanuris are not aware of the laws of this world, the physical world functions differently than the fade, or the world before the veil. Their host may get confused, go mad, lose their voice, any number of possibilities. It has even occurred to me that Coryphaeus may have been possessed by one of them, if he entered the black city as he claimed to do. But if he was, he has been banished back to where he came from and must seek escape all over again.”

            “Is that who you meant, that I met?”

            “Yes,” he replied unconvincingly.

            “But you said, ‘some’ of them.”

            “I misspoke.”

            “You never misspeak.”

            “I will not burden you further with my assumptions, you are always open minded, I do not want to change that,” Solas responded with finality and Raika knew if there were others she would never get their names, but she had to try one more tact.

            “If I have met them but do not know, I may give away something, accidentally.” She glanced at him coercively.

            “You cannot trust anyone with this, even someone you might call a friend,” Solas’ eyes bored into hers. “I hope to gain your trust by offering you mine, it is all I can give. You cannot tell Cullen or any of your other…soldiers, nor any of our former comrades.” His voice almost became a supplication, and she felt guilty for her insinuation.

            “Ok, I won’t.” Solas breathed an audible sigh of relief, and Raika knew everything he had said was true.        

            “If your questions are done, then you should eat something, I believe it has been almost a day since you have, and you must regain your strength.” He changed the subject and stood up, and offered her his hand. Raika had not thought about food but as soon as it was mentioned her stomach rumbled with hunger.

            Their chat had felt like ages had passed, she had learned so much that everything before looked different in the bright late day sun as they stepped from the tent. Without intending to she had forgiven him, and all of her hurt and anger was gone, at least for now. Solas led her by the hand past the elves around their fires, some looking up and nodding to their leader, who returned the passive greeting.

            At one such identical fire they stopped, and an old woman looked up with an open smile to greet them.

            “Solas, are you hungry?” she asked without delay. Raika was surprised, she had expected his followers to call him some formal title or a name that didn’t recall his past with the Insquisition.

            “Thank you Miri. If you don’t mind, we would both love whatever you are cooking,” Miri smiled and returned to the stripped rabbit that she was laboriously stuffing with aromatic fresh herbs and chunks of roots. Solas beckoned Raika to sit on one of the flat logs that circled the stone firepit. Before she had gotten comfortable her three guides from before trotted up to meet them with the entourage of teenagers in tow. They all gazed at her expectantly in a way that made her very uncomfortable.

            “Raika, this is Lodin,” Solas introduced the spokes-boy she had met earlier, “and Holia, and Trowger,” the three young elves who had led her to this place gave small bows and eager looks. The shy girl surprised Raika by speaking first.

            “Are you really her?” Holia asked with a wavering quiet voice full of excitement.

            “Um…who?” Raika was taken aback, Solas chuckled.

            “Yes, she is the Inquisitor. Have you forgotten already how you saved the world?” Solas’ look joined with the others such that Raika had to stare at the ground to compose herself.

            “No, I just…didn’t know that people knew…me.”

            “They knew some, I filled in other details. Accurately I hope, but I do not pretend to be unbiased on this topic.” Solas sat back with a benign smile, inviting his followers to flood her with questions.

            “I thought you lost your arm,” the other guide, Trowger, confronted her. Raika was again caught by surprise.

            “I did, but Dagna, Dorian and B…well, I have very talented friends.” She squeezed her fist and a thin lyrium vein spiraled up her arm giving away that it was not a natural part of her body. “I barely even notice it anymore, it’s almost better than the original.”

            “Are you going to stay with us?” Holia broke in again. She must have been the youngest of the three, her childish anticipation shining through her questions.

            “We have not decided yet,” Solas answered for her. Holia accepted his answer without any disappointment, though she fell silent afterwards. Raika had not considered what she would do now, but clearly Solas had. It was unclear if he preferred her to stay or go.

            “Can you tell us about Corypheus and the Dragon, how you buried Haven and then trekked through the snowstorm to find your people and take them to Skyhold?” Lodin asked with genuine curiosity though he clearly already knew the story. Raika grew even more self-conscious.

            “Oh, I am not much of a story teller. I am sure Solas has told you all about it.”

            “Stories often sound different when told by different people,” Solas added with his teasing smirk, and Raika did not feel she could say no in the face of their friendly request.

            “Alright, you tell the story, and I will fill in my parts where they go.” Solas nodded at the compromise and began his story. The youths gathered around him, sitting on the ground or on stumps in a way that told Raika his stories were often told and well received. Even Miri listened with a smile as she slowly rotated the stuffed rabbit over the sparking coals.

 

            The sky glowed with gold as the story came to an end. Raika had been forced to correct more than a few exaggerations, and when the defeat of Corypheus received a rousing roar from their audience she was glad it was end of the tale, for what came after was not as easy to relate. Aromatic smoke drifted around their heads as Miri prodded the roasted rabbit and nodded to herself with satisfaction. Just as they had gathered the youths dispersed without instruction, presumably to their own families and fires, and Solas, Raika and Miri were left alone.

            “Where did they all come from?” Raika asked in a whisper.

            “Most were slaves,” Solas began at normal volume, staring into the glowing ashes. “a few are from human cities, those who refused to bow before unjust lords and managed to escape with their lives. Each one has a harrowing tale that would make you cringe.” Miri looked up at Solas and smiled as if unaware of their conversation.

            “It’s ready!” she announced with a naïve joy. Raika could not help but smile back, and wonder if Miri was in control of all of her faculties. Raika pondered the old woman as she expertly portioned the rabbit into three equal shares, fragrant tender potatoes and carrots steamed as she piled them onto trays of smooth bark.

            “How long have you been here Miri?” Raika asked cheerfully, wondering if Solas would disapprove of her question, but he made no move to intervene.

            “Oh, I have no idea,” Miri babbled with a smile, “a few months maybe. What is time at my age, when I can finally do as I please, cook for those I choose, or tell them to pop off if I’m not in the mood!” she gave a surprisingly throaty guffaw, and Solas smiled endearingly at her little joke.

            “And, where did you come from?” Raika had thought hard before posing this question, but decided she must ask. A fierce anger quickly clouded Miri’s rosy face, and Solas jaw clenched subtly.

            “With the worst soul-sucking slimy snake of a man that woman ever birthed. How much can one take without seeing that there is no more!” she screamed over the blazing fire, and Raika’s heart clenched with guilt while pity reflected in Solas’ eyes.

            “I’m sorry, I should not…”

            “But what care I now!” the smile returned to Miri’s face as she interrupted the apology, “when I can say such things about him!” another rumbling laugh rolled from her throat and she returned to the food, handing trays to her two guests. Solas glanced at Raika, though she needed no instruction to cease that line of questioning. They ate in pleasant silence, Raika became so distracted by the amazing meal that she did not notice the other two anymore until her tray lay completely empty.

            “What about you dear?” Miri asked her, pleased at the appreciation of her cooking, “where were you before?” Solas shifted a bit in his seat but continued to pick delicately at his plate.

            Raika was not sure what to say, in the years since she had encountered Solas last she had settled nowhere. With the dissolution of the Inquisition Skyhold had felt empty, besides all the reminders of Solas, and the remainder of the organization chose to abandon it, as it had been abandoned many times before. For a while a small party of them had wandered together until they were separated by personal callings; Dorian home to the Imperium where Bull followed claiming for an entirely different reason, Dagna and Sera to some adventure, Varric back to rule Kirkwall as odd as that seemed. Raika had no home to return to, her clan had all been killed for associating with the Inquisition. The camp where Raika had been when her dream had called her away was made up of odd soldiers who were loyal to Cullen, who led their band, and to the ideas of the Inquisition. Raika was de-facto second in command, though she never led anything nor helped make any plans. Cullen put up with her antics like a big brother, though their relationship had always been a bit tenuous after her relationship with Solas became known. Lilliana occasionally made an appearance, only to leave again just as quickly. Putting a name to their group was not easy, they were not an army, and certainly not mercenaries. A band of Good Samaritans was the closest thing one could call them. Raika wasn’t even certain of their goals. After the exalted council Solas’ sudden reappearance had defined a loose aim for those who desired to pursue it, but Raika had mainly spent time hunting, drinking and sleeping with whichever handsome soldier happened to be on hand and willing.

            “Here and there,” she finally answered coyly. This seemed enough to satisfy Miri, who nodded in satisfaction.

            “Ah freedom, to go where one pleases and do as one likes.” Miri responded and turned to a hay stuffed sack near the fire, her own dinner already devoured, and lay down putting an obvious close to their conversation.

            “Goodnight Miri, thank you for the wonderful meal.” Solas stood and without further ceremony left the fireside, expecting Raika to follow.

            They walked the darkened path between the fires, joyous faces glowing like lanterns around each circle, eating and telling stories, some sitting quietly and close in private company. Raika was reminded again of her clan, and a lump gathered in her throat. Yet as similar as it was something here was even happier than life among the wild and free elves. Here everyone was smiling, there were no rivalries or anxiety. They were enjoying freedom as only those who have experienced life without it can.

            Solas guided her silently towards the edge of the camp, subtly watching her as she observed the other elves at their evening routines. When they had passed the last glowing circle a moonlit field emerged from the darkness. Raika’s horse grazed happily on the knoll that lay before the birch forest where she had first arrived. She was often amazed at the amount of colors that could emerge from what was called darkness, when a full moon replaces the golden tones of day with azure hues, and each piece of grass becomes a precious silver blade.

            “Even you can’t claim all magic is gone from the world when you look upon this beauty.” Raika teased the silent Solas with a passionate admonishment, not ready to depart the camp that itself seemed carved from dreams.

            “I have learned to see the small glimmers of magic in this world,” Raika could hear a smile in his tone, “and you are one of them.” She blushed in the darkness. “You know where I am taking you now.” They stood at the edge of the forest, on the path that led to the eluvian where she had first entered whatever realm this was, one she more and more felt was not the same plane that she had come from.

            “Yes, but…why. Do you not want me to stay?” Her voice was more nervous than she intended, Raika didn’t know herself what she wanted and perhaps Solas recognized this.

            “I want you to decide, not here where you are…predisposed. You do not have to stay away, but I think it is best if you return to…your camp, and then decide.” As if from some silent summons Holia appeared behind them carrying Raika’s clothes, dry from the fireside and folded with care and her blades sharpened and polished. Even her mismatched boots had been worked with oils that made them glow lustrous under the cool moon.

            “Thank you,” Raika took the pile, and the girl smiled shyly before scampering back towards the camp without a word.

            “If you would like different boots…” Solas eyed the odd soldiers boot.

            “No. I should return it…get my other boot. Also Cullen would probably appreciate knowing I am not dead.” Solas nodded, curious but not masochistic enough to ask for details.

            “You should dress now. There are people who search for this place, and for me, once you are outside the eluvian I do not know what awaits you.” The reminder of her trip here and Solas’ dangerous mission deflated the sweet air of evening. Joining him would be a betrayal to her world, and to her current comrades who were apparently not the only group determined to stop him. The moonlight again became cold and the grass returned to its damp and plain existence. The weight of reality sunk on her, and she felt weary already. He seemed to sense this.

            “I know you don’t approve,” he answered her silence, “but the people here, they are real, their trials are real. I could help so many more of them with you by my side.”

            “You said you would not try to sway me,” Raika groaned as she climbed into her leather pants.

            “I said no such thing, only that you should decide once you have left this place. But you have not left yet. In truth, I could not have concocted a more persuasive day even if that had been my intention. Of course I would like you to stay, but you must decide that on your own.” They both knew that in the past she had relied heavily on his judgement, perhaps too much given the secrets that were later revealed. Even now she could not disagree with this suggestion. As she dressed she looked back over the camp, dots of firelight danced gleefully as if communicating to one another. She thought of Miri, laying in her cozy bed, happy despite her past.

            “So…Miri…” she wasn’t sure how to ask without sounding disrespectful. Solas face lengthened gloomily.

            “She was one of my first followers,” his voice mellowed, “I found her on the side of a road, cold and covered in mud, her master had decided she was no longer any use and left her for dead in the middle of a swamp between Orlais and Tevinter. All her life she had cooked for him, wonderful food of the finest ingredients and never tasted it. All her family, brothers, children, dead or sold by this man. She could not recall why she had been left, if she had done something or he had just discarded a no longer useful piece of clothing. I know of slavery but I could hardly have imagined a life so mired in brutality. And this is typical. I brought her here where the days are always sunny, there is not a village within a day’s ride, yet it was weeks before any sense came back to her, she spent days recounting a guilt for displeasing her _master,_ but I slowly heard her story. And then she was as she is now, whatever she remembers of the past she tries not to think of it, can you blame her?” Tears spilled from Raika’s wide eyes at the sorrow that seeped from his words.

            “Her fire is exactly at the center of the camp,” he gestured to the expansive field of campfires with a sigh, “everything else came after. Her presence encouraged me without words, alongside the memory of you, how you would feel, how you would judge.” Solas grinned with fragile acceptance. “I may have advised you before, but I promise it is your memory that counsels me know.” Raika looked down and wiped away the remaining tears.

            “So when…if I come back, what then?” she asked with a slightly wavering voice.

            “If you come back then we will get to work. My plan _has_ changed, slightly, since the brief glimpse I gave you before. If I am not here they know how to send for me.” Raika looked at the eluvian, now before them shimmering unnaturally in the deep forest shadows.

            “I don’t know if I can find my way back…”

            “You can, I will point the way. But first…” he dove into her pouting lips, softly grasping them with his own and she melted involuntarily into his arms. “Your key will get you through any eluvian, because you are special, and they will all lead you to me. ‘Dirth vehnan’,” he whispered as their heads leaned into each other. Her hand lingered in his for a moment, before she stepped through the wavering silver window, and Solas paused with a brief unconscious smile, confident he had carried his purpose.  

 

            After the fresh moonlit forest the cavern was disappointing, stale and musty and never touched by the sun. The glow from the eluvian offered a small pool of light to see by, casting harsh shadows on the large stones that encircled it. Raika didn’t remember those from before, but she had been in such a foul mood there was probably much she did not notice. She contemplated her new quest as she waited for Solas, feeling the distance that separated them, that which the eluvian connected. She was so distracted she almost didn’t notice that the large sentry stones surrounding the eluvian seemed closer than when she came through, and she stared hard at the nearest one, the light behind her wavering with new shadows as Solas came through the mirror.

            “Wait!” she held her hand up to prevent him from going any further, still studying the suspicious figures that she was sure now had not been there before. Even as she stared the one in front of her expanded, revealing itself to be a shield, hiding a man. In an instant she turned and shoved Solas without warning back through the still flickering mirror door, the sentries from behind the eluvian already within an arms-length.

            “Close it!” she yelled at his surprised face before it disappeared. Seconds seemed like hours, she had no idea how to close it herself, how long she could hold them off, or why he didn’t close it. With a resigned sob she grabbed the frame of the mirror with her prosthetic arm, willing with lyrium-fueled power to shatter the window. She held on to the frame as strange and strong arms tried to wrestle her away and force their way past her as she bodily blocked the still shimmering opening. The bizarre shiny liquid began to vibrate, sending tiny rippling shapes across the surface, and her attackers hesitated for only a moment. One soldier dove forward towards the opening, but fell in a dead heap with half his head and one arm missing as the eluvian shattered and the door closed.      

            Instead of the loud blast that Raika expected an eerie silence seemed to suck the air from the cavern and small sharp drops of the strange material slowly expanded from the shaking structure as the magic of the eluvian stretched, trying to hold itself together. The men that grappled with her braced limbs stood in shock as the world around them moved against the very laws of nature and time seemed to stand still. Finally the spell fractured completely and the harmless droplets of magic became razor sharp darts of glass, shooting outward from the exploding spell that sent Raika and her attackers flying into the stone walls of the cave. 


	2. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many times had Raika Lavellan resigned herself to death as a member of the Inquisition. What was one more. When Solas' enemies mistake her for one of his followers it may no longer be her choice which side she stands on. If Solas was in her position would he sacrifice all to keep her safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, i would love to hear your thoughts!

            The sound of clanking armor and an echo of distant commands beckoned Raika awake. Her body ached and head pounded as though the metal plates were crashing on the inside of her skull. Had she drank last night? The insane dreams of Solas and his camp stood out in her memory as clear as day, but she barely remembered yesterday. With her senses clenched tight she tried to piece together the evening, what toxic concoction she must have sampled with what nameless soldier who likely lay beside her in the bed. Not ready to wake him and make the morning more awkward, she rolled slightly to see if her companion responded. Her back hit a cold metal bar and she jerked to keep herself from tumbling off the low cot. A dingy stone room greeted her unwilling eyes as the bed transformed from her imaginary feather mattress into a poky straw sack.

            Raika gazed around the stone room in confusion. She closed her eyes again to will herself back to sleep so she could wake from this new nightmare. But it was no use, the mat became even more intrusive where the straw stabbed like needles into her skin and she shivered in the damp darkness. When her new reality became too unpleasant to ignore she sat up, and her cramped back spasmed with the movement. Sitting on the edge of the so-called bed she gingerly felt her back ribs, bruised from some blunt impact, and the back of her head where a throbbing pain radiated from a large bump at the base of her skull. Her shirt hung in tatters as if some clawed creature had attacked her while she was unconscious. Dozens of small red scratches covered her arms, chest and face, with a few large ones encrusted with drips of dried blood stung as she inspected them. She remembered the exploding eluvian, the droplets of mirror which defied gravity, then flying through the air followed by a sudden darkness.

            So it wasn't a dream after all, and the soldiers must have been real too. She was the captive of Solas’ enemies, caught in a trap meant for him, or his followers. She had been foolish to forget what might await them outside the safety of the camp. But Solas had been even more foolish. Was this the one time he forgot to over-analyze? Or perhaps he had known and had let her be the bait. She forced the last thought from her mind, what possible motive could he have for that. The last glimpse of him, his genuine surprise as she forced him backwards through the eluvian, argued in his favor.

            Raika stood to pace the rough floor with growing unease, carefully avoiding the puddles of stagnant water. Her head objected but her body appreciated the stretch. The cell was small and typical as far as she could tell. A few paces brought her across the entire space. The heavy wooden door was worn smooth with age and covered with a slippery green tinge. It had just one small square opening at eye level with no other notable features. One narrow slit high in the wall showed a sliver of blue sky and let in just enough light to give shape to the room.

            As she scrutinized the room with growing discomfort Raika wondered about her captors. Nothing specific from before her capture stood out in her mind, the soldiers who surrounded them were obscured in shadows. Just the glowing eluvian and Solas’ face as it fell away from her, perhaps forever, were etched in her minds eye. They had made no commands or pronouncements, or if they did she had not heard them, and the fact that she was alive made her more anxious rather than not. They were going to ask for something, and she could guess what.  As she wondered about what response she might give a few voices became clear out of the general noise that issued through her small window.

            “…if she is not awake we will wake her, my patience is already thin,” a commanding tone, somewhat nasally, reverberated through her door. Raika thought she recognized something like Dorian’s accent. Impulsively she pushed herself up against one of the walls as she heard the grating squeal of metal upon metal and the door swung open. From her fruitless hiding place she could not see out the opening, but the shadow which stood there paused for a moment, before a very thin man in a shimmering gray robe skittered in, clearly flustered.

            “Where is she!” he yelled. Before he could turn and see her Raika bolted around the corner of the opening. Straight into a man built like a boulder. She bounced off his metal chest plate and before she could gather herself a massive mailed hand grabbed her around the neck and lifted her from the floor. Her whole body struggled against his death grip. She grabbed the arm with both hands, as if wrestling with the air.

            “You should have chained her,” A low rumble echoed from under the boulder’s helmet.

            “Yes well, you caught her so…” the thin man settled back into his apparently natural state of impatience, “it is telling to see what a prisoner does in their first moments.” He defended himself and his large companion did not respond. “We have learned that she is no escaped slave. Come,” he shuffled quickly back out of the room and the boulder released Raika into a gasping heap at his feet. Without delay she was slung over his shoulder like a side of pork and they followed the robed man into the hall.

            Raika fought to remain conscious as the pounding in her head grew, the near suffocation and her dangling position compounded to make it very difficult. She focused on the shiny back of the man who carried her and listened to his footsteps, intent on gaining some observing her captors to keep her mind off her own pain. The boulder pounded over creaky wood planks and down curving stairs that made her nauseous. Two groaning doors later and they were outside in bright sun on trampled grass and she could smell the tang of the fresh greenery. This camp must have been recently settled. They paced quickly though the tents, the clang and mix of voices typical of an army encampment gave Raika no information, and in a surprisingly short time she was deposited forcefully on her back in a tent with a handful of men all staring at her. She recognized the heavy armor of the soldiers that had been attacking the young elves before she came to their rescue, and a lump of dread rose in her throat at the realization of her predicament.

            “You are charged with breaking and entering, possession of stolen property, conspiracy, murder, treason...” a bored drone emerged from a man seated behind a table piled high with papers, he did not even look at her as he spoke. “You bear witness?” he looked at the man in the familiar armor, who nodded. He must have been the one who had gotten away on horseback, Raika cursed to herself. Another man next to him whom Raika had never seen also nodded.

            “I’ve never ev…” Raika started to defend herself but the thin man backhanded her.

            “Silence!” he yelled, as if the slap had not been enough to communicate his intentions. No one else took notice.

            “She has no mark?” the man behind the desk continued, looking to the thin man who shook his head no. “Who are you?” the man at the desk, who appeared to be some sort of judge, finally looked at Raika. It occurred to her that maybe she should not say she was the Inquisitor. She had learned enough to establish her captors were Tevinter, and clearly Solas’ enemies. In another circumstance she may have been their allies, but they were forcing her hand. When she opened her mouth to answer her opportunity had passed, and she received another slap from her handler.

            “The accused is uncooperative. No history can be established, judgement: guilty, sentence: slavery to the wounded party.” Two loud thumps on the wooden desk followed the pronouncement and some papers moved atop a pile, changing her life forever.

            “Wait! But I’m…” Raika feared the paperwork more than whatever lay immediately before her. A misunderstanding might be undone, but if she had been officially sentenced to slavery it would take more than sweet talking Josephine to undo it. The man in the gray robe grabbed her face.

            “No one cares for your lies, but I  _will_  get the truth from you,” he hissed, inches away from her before throwing her jaw away in disgust. The other men seemed oblivious to her existence. She could not help but wonder with frustration if this little farce of a trial was typical, or the sort reserved only for elves. Once again she found herself being carted out of the tent like a hunk of meat, any struggle was futile against the well armored shoulder that prodded into her ribs as they strode from the tent.

            “Captain, if you will meet me in my tent as soon as you are able.” She heard her captor say.

            “Certainly, Magister,” came the response from one of the trial’s attendees. So there it was, she was the slave of a magister. The lump in her throat escaped in a sob. She felt helpless, and she was helpless. Everything she knew of Tevinter described the culture of slavery and its institutions built around it. There was no fine print that would save her, no lax rules that might let her slip through the cracks, and she doubted too there would be any leniency at all in captivity or torture. She could guess they would ask her about Solas. Even if they did not know it was he who had been with her at the eluvian they clearly knew the eluvian’s led to him. It did not matter, she would tell them nothing. Solas would have been understanding if she had spilled his secrets under duress, but it was not his safety she worried about now. No matter how smooth his words and how convincing her day in the camp she was under no delusion that if pushed he would sacrifice all of his followers to save himself. She must stay silent for them, for Miri and Holia, and Lodin, and the gruff Trowger who didn’t seem to like her anyway, and all the others whose names she hadn’t learned. In the past few years she had resigned herself to her death more times than she remembered, but this time it seemed the most certain, and likely the most painful.

            By the time she settled her resolve she was again dropped on her back and the wind knocked from her. Before she could recover her wrists were chained to a pole that supported the canvas overhead. Now able to see the armored boulder who had been lugging her around the camp she was shocked to see he was dressed in full Templar armor, the dark slits of his helmet pointed in her direction as he stood motionless by the tent flap. The gray robe of the magister shimmered as he busied himself over a table. His mood had evolved to a new cheerfulness that Raika found rather ominous. To distract herself from whatever unpleasantness undoubtedly awaited, Raika studied her surroundings.

            It was clean, but disorganized. A hodgepodge of simple wooden tables held an array of instruments and tools next to racks of staves draped with robes interspersed with piles of blankets and buckets of varying contents. A large broken mirror stood in one corner, it might have once been an eluvian. She recognized her own fine blades on the table nearest the door, strewn with other goods she did not recognize. There was no bed or wash-bin, it looked more like an armory or workshop than a Magister’s quarters.

            “Magister Montus,” the captain saluted as he entered and stood at attention awaiting the Magister’s whim.

            “Thank you for being prompt, Captain. Your orders were to capture  _all_  who came through the mirror door, where they not?” Montus did not look up from the table as he spoke.

            “Yes, Magister.” The Captain gulped though not at all surprised by the accusation.

            “And yet, one got away, maybe the Elf Master himself,” Montus looked at the Captain before continuing. “How did that happen?”

            “Aron attempted to follow him through the mirror, suh, but he…” the Captain struggled to explain something he had not seen and did not understand. “He didn’t succeed, and then it blew up.”

            “What do you mean he didn’t succeed?” Montus asked without any real curiosity for he already knew the answer.

            “Well, he…it was like the mirror cut him up as he touched it, so I am told.”

            “And then it blew up…” Montus prompted.

            “Yes, my men said it just blew up, they don’t know how, but everything slowed down…” the Captain trailed off.

            “This is important Captain, who witnessed this?” Montus scowled at the Captain from his position by the table.

            “A few of them survived, they are in the infirmary…”

            “Very well, dismissed” Montus cut him off. A moment of expectant silence followed the Captain’s exit, in which Raika once again contemplated announcing her identity to the Magister, but decided it would be pointless, and maybe even dangerous. Instead she stayed silent trembling as she waited for the next knife to drop. Being resigned to her fate would not make it come any faster, or any easier.

            “I will give you one chance,” Montus turned abruptly and glared at her, “tell me how to get through the mirror doors, and I will let you go back to your people.” Raika stared unblinking and silent right back into his cold eyes. He must think her really stupid. Besides the fact they had no idea who her people were, it had just been established that she was legally his property. She knew enough about Tevinter to know a Magister would not give up a slave with so little incentive.

            “Hm, I did not really think you would, no matter” Montus seemed actually pleased, which twisted Raika’s stomach. He snapped his fingers twice. A small elf that had blended in so well with the tent Raika had not noticed her before emerged from nowhere with a carafe of water and held it to Raika’s lips. She drank gratefully, unsure when she might get another chance.

            “Thank you,” Raika whispered to the old elf, or was she a young elf? Her hair was thin and pale, her eyes crinkly but her ashen skin was drawn and tight. The elf avoided looking at Raika and once she had stopped drinking the other retreated back into the maze of goods without a word. Montus studied Raika with a sneer as this took place.

            “We will not starve you here, it’s such a waste. Blood needs to be fed.” Montus’ smirk grew as he saw realization dawn on Raika’s face. He was a blood mage, and right in front of a Templar. Raika glanced with involuntary hope at the stoic Templar, which drew a cold chuckle from Montus.

            “You are from the South. I should have guessed. You don’t have those elven marks on your face, so from one of those backwater mudholes they call cities then.” He turned to the table and admired her daggers which glimmered with a pale blue light even in the hazy tent. “Where did you get these fine things? Stolen no doubt, but I did not know they were capable of such artistry in the South.” Raika resisted the small bit of pride that swelled in her chest, after all it was meant as an insult. Montus’ eyes wandered from the blades to her clothing, taking in the once nice shirt that hung in tatters, her sturdy leather harnass and matching pants with delicate stitching decorating the seams. When he reached her mismatched yet well-crafted boots his face displayed a momentary puzzlement.

            “Oren, how much do you think I could get for these?” Montus turned back to the blade in his hand. The Templar turned his metal stare to the weapon in the Magister’s hand. Raika had almost forgotten he was capable of speech.

            “Lyrium-infused, the Knight-Commander is a collector…” Oren’s voice echoed from the canister on his head.

            “Wonderful! I shall save them for him.” Montus answered suggestively. He snapped his fingers again and handed the blades to the elf, who put them on a table in the back of the tent with a host of other random items that seemed to have nothing in common. Montus’ mood improved by the second, and Raika felt his dawdling was meant to add to her torture. It was working.

            The Magister turned back to appraising his new possession and what little confidence Raika had left wilted under the stern and silent stares of the two men. It would be hard enough to maintain a determined silence, but hiding her feelings too would be impossible. The anticipated distress was already affecting her. She shivered from her seat on the ground, her body instinctively trying to protect itself, to no avail. Tears welled in her eyes and it was all she could do to restrain her sobs to silence as she looked at the ground and curled in on herself as much as her bonds would allow.

            “There it is. That moment of resignation. I love that moment.” A disturbing delight registered in the Magister’s voice. He pried her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You can stop this whenever you choose, just a few words and you can be free of fear.” His dangerous smile and maniacal eyes said otherwise. “I will not continue to remind you.”

             _This is his ploy_ , Raika thought,  _a tease to make things worse, don’t listen._  She convinced herself and clenched her eyes shut. She swallowed her fear, refusing to give in to his pull. His deep chuckle chilled her to the bone.

            “Fear makes the blood pump faster, stronger, you will be very useful. I almost hate to end this moment. Don’t you think fear makes them more beautiful, Oren?” The metal-man made no response to the rhetorical question. “The beauty of potential, it is almost my favorite thing…almost.” The flutter of tent canvas announced an unexpected visitor.

            “I apologize, my lord, Sir Oren is needed elsewhere.” The receding clank of armor broadcast Oren’s departure. Raika, with eyes still shut tight, dared to hope this might mean something, but the Magister continued talking, more or less to himself. His hand disappeared from her face and after a long moment she had to open her eyes again, not knowing where he was only made things worse. She found him staring deep into her eyes as soon as they were open. The cheerful smirk on his thin face did nothing to decrease her dread.

            “You think if you close your eyes it will be over faster. But why would I do that. Time makes everything fuller, more real. Don’t you think?” He aimed his annoying tortuous questions at her in the absence of the Templar. “I never understood the fear of blood magic down south, it has even infected us up here. Now we must pay lip service to your insecurities. It is magic like any other. If one has the tools, why not use them?” These words echoed in Raika’s mind of something Solas had once said, and she thought of him instead of the mad man standing before her.  _So long as it is not an obsession_ , Solas had continued. She would have to fight this Magister without fists or blades. Her natural stubbornness, which had constantly been derided and penalized, would now come to her aid. If he wanted someone fearful she would give him the opposite. She thought of Solas’ voice, as they would talk on the hill at Haven, staring at the breach which really was a splendid sight in retrospect. With deep breaths and the thought of the calming voice she slowed her heart. Nothing mattered now, she wished for a death she knew would not come, and without death pain didn’t matter.

            The Magister watched her grow calm and his liveliness lessened. The moment had passed, time to create another. He began to circle the pillar where she was chained. With a quick adjustment of her legs she aimed to trip him up and gain the upper hand, anything to remind herself she was the Inquisitor and had saved empires and brought down gods. He nimbly avoided her feet with a tisk-tisk and a wagging finger the smile returned to his face at her game.

            He wandered past the periphery of her vision and for a second fear of the unknown rose in her again. Without warning his slender fingers closed on her throat, softly at first, just a threat. His other hand traced the long rise of her ears with too delicate of a touch, she shuddered involuntarily and his hand slowly clenched tighter around her neck.

            “Elven ears are so sensitive, so full of nerves,” he continued to finger the ridges that tingled at his touch, as if he was practicing with a knife. He squeezed her throat with surprisingly strong fingers, his sharp nails digging into her jaw as she began to gasp. “Speak and I will release you.” He whispered menacingly into her ear, his breath igniting her already alert nerves. Her body struggled out of her control, instinct taking control and tears forced themselves from her eyes as if trying to make room for air. The tent darkened around her and an internal pounding drowned out his command to speak. She felt herself tilt wildly into a dark abyss, and then he released her, still she teetered on the edge of the void.

            “No, no, you cannot pass out yet.” He smacked the side of her face, his ringed hand adding an extra throbbing to her head. She focused on breathing and ignored his new threats. Suddenly the fingers were back at her throat and a pain she could never have imagined began to radiate from the edge of her ear. No ordinary cut, from no ordinary knife, she felt needles penetrating her skull and pulling at her brain, they travelled down her neck to where her heart beat wildly to escape the encroaching magic. When she felt her heart would succumb to fatigue the feeling all at once disappeared and left a hole where it had been, as if the bones had been ripped from her body. Deflated she sagged against her bonds, her thoughts swimming with confusion. She looked up at the Magister who was clouded in a black fog, a small shimmering knife in one hand, he seemed to have grown in the last few minutes.

            “Such a useful tool. I think we will have lots of fun together.” Montus’ eyes, shrouded like jet black marbles, overtook her vision as she was swallowed by the cavernous black of unconsciousness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Lavellan (and I) needed some Solas explanations. Will be continued, but much darker. Comments and suggestions welcome!


End file.
